


Let Your Guard Down, Angel

by AlmostGloriousWhispers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Love, Protective Castiel, Reader-Insert, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7671175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmostGloriousWhispers/pseuds/AlmostGloriousWhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're back at your motel room enjoying beer and pie with the Winchesters after a successful hunt, when Castiel appears, furious because he didn't know you were in danger and he wasn't able to protect you. Lately, despite being busy with the civil war in heaven, Cas has been dropping in on all of your hunts, then disappearing without a word the second the last bad thing is ganked. You're confused and upset--and very much in love with the angry angel. He heals your injuries and is about to disappear again, but this time you won't let him. You demand an explanation for his strange behavior, and what you get in response is sweeter and hotter than you could ever expect...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Guard Down, Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I've written lots of fiction, but this is my first fanfic, and I'm very excited! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed reading all the lovely SPN fluff and smut on this site!

Let Your Guard Down, Angel

This story takes place early in season six, when Castiel is fighting in the civil war in heaven.

“The pie from the diner is first rate,” Dean says, dropping his fork into the half-empty blueberry pie tin, “but this motel is the worst.” He grabs a beer from the six pack on the wobbly motel room table between him and Sam and twists off the cap.

Lying on the queen-sized bed in your favorite post-hunt sweatpants and tank top, you say, “I think it’s kinda cute.” You smile around your room at the strange but adorable cat paintings on the wall, and the green and pink polka dot wallpaper. 

“It is cute,” Sam says, “that’s the problem.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. It’s like Pinterest threw up all over this place.”

Surprised, you reply, “You know about Pinterest?”

Dean blushes and shrugs. “Hey, I know things.”

You start out grinning as you sit up straight, then wince at the sharp pains in your shoulder and ribs. The shoulder wound is all stitched up and would get better soon, but you’re afraid the ribs might be cracked, and cracked ribs are a real bitch to heal. You nod at Dean. “Gimme a beer before you drink it all.”

He takes a bottle from the six pack and pulls back his arm to throw it to you. “Hey, don’t,” you say, but he’s already throwing, and before you’ve even raised your sore arm high enough to try and catch the bottle, Castiel appears and catches it for you with barely a blink. 

Scowling, he hands you the bottle, while Dean and Sam give him a slow clap from the table.

“Damn Cas,” Sam said. “That was impressive, I gotta say.”

Castiel doesn’t even turn; his scowl remains locked on your face. You look away from his eyes and down at the beer as you twist off the cap, knowing from experience how dangerous it is for you to look into those squinting blue eyes for too long. Every second puts you at risk of giving yourself away and letting Castiel know how you really feel about him, and you don’t think you could stand the bewildered, disinterested kindness he would no doubt show you in response.

“You’re hurt,” he says, reaching for your arm. 

The stitches in your shoulder pull, but you only gasp because of the electrical jolt of the angel’s fingers on your bare skin. “It’s barely anything,” you say quietly. “Sam fixed me up with two stitches. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re in pain. I can tell by your breathing.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. The pain is nothing. Same old same old. You’re breathing hard because of the rare sweetness of the angel’s touch. “Really, Cas. It’s fine.”  
But already a cool light envelops your body, then sinks in, instantly healing your stitched wound, cracked ribs, and the bruises all down your right side from when the djinn slammed you up against a concrete wall. You felt great. Better than great. Physically, anyway. 

You shook off Cas’s hand and crossed your arms. “You can’t keep doing this.”

His scowl only deepened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going up against such a powerful foe today? Why did I have to find out from Balthazar, after it was over?”

“Come on, Cas,” Sam says. “It’s not like you’re exactly easy to get ahold of these days. We prayed to you all last week and you couldn’t even spare us a minute.”

Wait, what? Now you’re confused. Last week Castiel had appeared outside a houseful of vampires you were hunting and spent nearly two hours with you, closing in on the vamps and hacking off heads, then disappearing without a word the second the last head hit the ground.

“Yeah,” says Dean. “Aren’t you in the middle of a civil war up there?”

Castiel turned towards the Winchesters for the first time since he appeared. “I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“For fuck’s sake, Cas!” Your voice is much louder than you intended it to be, but damn it, you’re confused, and annoyed, and it hurts so much just to see his face, his eyes, and his beautiful mouth so close and so far away at the same time. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Dean asks, but Castiel is back to ignoring him and scowling at you.

“I’m an angel of the lord, Y/N, I believe I’m entitled to do whatever I choose.”

“Of course you are, but why choose to—“

“It’s not important,” he interrupts. “I should go.”

A tidal wave of anger sweeps over you and you leap to your feet. “No. No way are you doing this again. All you do is show up and bitch at me or help me gank something and then just disappear without even saying goodbye. We are fucking talking about this, whether you like it or not!”

Sam and Dean exchange looks, slowly standing up in unison. 

“We should probably…” Sam says, and Dean nods and finishes for him, saying, “be somewhere else now.”

They grab the beer and leftover pie and head out the door for their own room.

You take a few deep breaths, and by the time the Winchesters are gone you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to stay calm enough not to cry like a little bitch.

“Listen, Cas. I always appreciate your help—I mean, having a g—“ You stop yourself just in time from saying goddamn. “Having an angel on your side is great. Makes me feel freaking invincible.”

With a flutter of trenchcoat that sounded like wings he rushed over shouting, his blue eyes burning. “Invincible? You’re human, you’re fragile, you’re—“

“Whoa, whoa, hey! Of course I know I’m not really invincible. Forget I even said it.”

You take a few deep breaths to try and calm down because he’s so very close to you now, but breathing deep only makes it worse because now you’re overcome by the smell of him, like new spring leaves and salt air. 

And why does his angry face have to be so hot? Instead of looking pissy and petulant like most angry guys, his face is filled with earnest passion, the harsh lines of his forehead, cheekbones, nose and jaw making it clear how very deeply he cares about your safety. If only that could be because he loves you as much as you love him.

His sharp blue eyes are still burning into yours and you have to look away. “Okay, my point is that I don’t need protecting. I’m tough, smart, and fast. I’m a good hunter. A great one.” 

You want to ask him to step back and respect your personal space, but you also want him to stay near you as long as possible.

“Yes,” he says, his scowl relaxing, “you are great. But hunters, even the best, don’t tend to live for very long. And humans live such very short lives as it is…” Pain flickered across his face and for a moment, his eyes wincing closed.

“Okay, true,” you say, your voice shaky now—why is your voice shaky? “But you have shit to do, Cas. Major, angel war shit. You don’t need to be dropping in on me every time I go hunting. It doesn’t make sense.”

“But it does make sense. To me. As long as you keep hunting—“ he pauses, the pain once more flickering over his face, “as long as you keep hunting, I’ll keep showing up.” 

You cross your arms in a pointless barrier against his nearness. “You say that like you want me to stop hunting.”

“No.” He rears his head back a little in surprise, but his feet stay planted. “Not at all. Hunting is a part of you. I would never ask, never want you to change. You are…” His voice trailed off, his eyes scanning your face with… what was that expression? Need? Desperation?

Damn it, something is going on here, something more than surface deep, something warm and soft underneath his words. If he were just a regular human guy, you’d feel certain that this gorgeous creature was in love with you. But this is Castiel, a real, live angel of the lord. It wasn’t possible.

“Cas, what the hell is up with you? Please. Tell me. I need to know what—“ you wave your hand around at the room as if it held evidence of Castiel’s strange, inexplicable behavior these past few weeks, “what this means.”

His gaze drifts lightly over your face, moving from your eyes to your mouth, to your jaw, then back again to your mouth. You feel the rhythm of your speeding heart rattling your rib cage. You drop your arms to your side, waiting without being entirely sure what you’re waiting for.

“It means,” he says softly, looking from your mouth, up to your eyes, then down to your mouth again. “I think it means…” 

He moves a little closer; there is barely an inch between you now. You can’t breathe. He whispers, “I think…” 

In a moment his soft, full lips are on yours and he’s kissing you, his big hands cradling your face, the tip of his tongue touching yours. You gasp into his mouth, finally able to breathe again as you lean into the kiss and wrap your arms around his waist. No way are you letting him leave now. If he wants to go, he’ll have to take you with him.

“I know how you feel about me, Y/N,” he whispers, his hands still holding your face, his thumbs stroking along your jaw. “All the more reason for me to keep my distance. I’ve been trying so hard, trying to keep my focus on the cause, but this—this—need I have for you…” He shook his head, his voice trailing into silence.

Your skin flushes all over as he kisses you again, sliding his hands from your face, down your neck, to your breasts, where he pauses to run thumbs across your hard nipples before sliding his hands further down to your waist and around your back, his arms wrapped tight around you. His hands feel so good and so strong, his body so firm and real, you moan against his mouth. He responds with a low growl that vibrates through your center, leaving you wet and aching between your legs. 

Feeling suddenly embarrassed by the strength of your desire you try to pull away, but he’s holding you so tightly you can only duck your head into the crook of his neck, hiding your face.

“What? What is it?” he asks, his body going still.

“I’m just… I just feel…” His fingers clench against your back and your voice comes out half sob half moan. “I want you so bad it scares me.”

You dare to look up at his face and are rewarded by a sweet, lopsided smile. “Oh, Y/N,” he says, “that’s nothing to be afraid of. Not anymore.” 

He pulls you even tighter against him, and you can feel how hard he is, how badly he wants you too. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, “just be with me.”

“Okay,” you whisper back. “I’m ready.”

Then all of a sudden you’re both naked on the bed. Like magic. You laugh out loud at the strangeness of a lover who can just magic off your clothes in the blink of an eye, but then his mouth is on your breast, sucking, his teeth lightly grazing your nipple, and you can barely even think anymore. As he kisses his way to the other nipple he says, his breath hot against your skin, “You’ll have to tell me if I do anything wrong. My experience… is limited.”

Before you can speak he’s sucking on the other nipple, and you moan. You can’t find the words to tell him that he’s doing fantastic so far, so you decide to show him instead, taking his hand and guiding it down between your legs. He automatically cups your sex, then slides a finger inside you.

His breath catches. “So warm, so wet,” he murmurs. “That’s a good reaction, I think?”

“Yes, very—very good,” you say, already wanting him so bad you can’t wait anymore.

You grab hold of his cock and hum happily at the size and hardness of his erection, while he makes that growling noise again, low in his throat. You guide the tip of his cock to just the right spot and roll your hips up to let him push inside you. He’s too big to push in quickly, even though you’re wetter than you’ve ever been with anyone before, and the inch by inch slide inside you feels both wonderful and excruciating.

Then your hips bump together, his cock filling you completely, stretching you, and you feel like you could come at any moment just lying there with him. Then he begins to move and you never felt anything so perfect, so sweet and hot. Somehow he instinctively knows how to sync his movements with yours, sliding his hands under your ass so he can push deeper inside of you—slow and gentle at first, then harder, more urgently, until you’re digging your nails in his back and screaming his name, your pussy contracting around his pulsing cock, and now he’s shouting out your name, too, as you come in shuddering unison. 

He collapses against you, heavy but welcome, your bodies slick with sweat and heaving as you pant against each other, attempting to recover.

The first to catch his breath, Cas quietly asks, “So that was good?”

With a small, breathy laugh, you tell him, “That was amazing.”

He rolls off of you, and you feel cold for a moment, but he immediately scoots over, draping a leg and an arm over your body, his beautiful face on the pillow beside yours, a shy smile on those perfectly kissable lips.

“So this is what it feels like to be in love,” he says thoughtfully.

Your heart leaps and your smile feels like it’s covering you from head to toe.

“It feels good,” he says, nodding to himself. “In fact, it feels amazing.”


End file.
